


Some by Virtue Fall

by Roehrborn



Series: Canon Compliant Nygmobblepot [5]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: 3x21, 3x22, Angst, Character Study, Denial, Hate, Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 01:13:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11116782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roehrborn/pseuds/Roehrborn
Summary: Edward knows exactly what he wants from Oswald Cobblepot.Until he doesn't.





	Some by Virtue Fall

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Добро сгубить нас может](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11467416) by [Red_evil_twist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Red_evil_twist/pseuds/Red_evil_twist)



> I AM LIVING. THAT FINALE… WAS BEAUTIFUL. Warning in advance, I have a few reaction fics to the finale so it may be a bit longer until I can upload chapter 3 of My Sweetest Friend. But it shouldn’t be _too_ long because holy crap the finale was so motivating.
> 
> Working title for this fic was: “Ed stops being in denial, fuck you” which I think sums up my feelings on the subject nicely.
> 
> Enjoy!  
> ~R

He wants acknowledgement.

When he first sees the Penguin in person, Ed tracks him through the GCPD eagerly, trying to angle his way into an introduction. Of course, no one there would be willing; and no one seems to realize how _magnetic_ this man is, how deceptively powerful, how worthy of respect.

So Ed makes his own introduction, eagerly showing off his knowledge to the crime lord, desperate for some sort of praise or approval. He knows who he is, recognizes him from the newspaper articles, knows his adopted name, and knows he is to be feared.

He gets no praise or approval from the Penguin, but what he _does_ get is almost better: the Penguin threatens him quietly, serenely, husky voice low and dangerous. He seems to think Ed might _be_ someone. Might possibly be worth _threatening_.

Ed steps back from him, eager to avoid upsetting the small yet imposing figure.

He’s disappointed when it turns out the Penguin is here to see Jim. He watches the King of Gotham’s face light up in recognition and friendliness, disappointed, but not surprised. He doesn’t usually get what he wants. He’s almost used to it by now.

~

He wants a mentor.

The Penguin is dealing with his own grief right now, and Ed understands that it seems to be very difficult for him to get over. Ed’s not sure he empathizes, really; he can’t think of anyone he would be that distraught to lose. Even Kristen, his first love, had been almost a relief to kill. Once she was gone, he’d felt _freer_ , finally able to become the man he always wanted to be.

The Penguin keeps trying to talk him out of it; makes ominous predictions of a life full of loss and darkness. The Penguin doesn’t understand; there’s _no one_ Ed cares for; nothing he loves more than the feeling he’d had when he finally found Kristen’s body that his Other Self had hidden for him.

There’s a lot to respect about the Penguin; he’s built his way up from nothing, like Ed hopes to do. He’s powerful, deceptively strong, manipulative, built of angry sharp angles and light piercing eyes. But Ed still has to _explain_ to him, explain that love is poison and weakness, destructive like sulfuric acid eating away at bone.

It takes a while; it takes long hours of effort and planning and researching, but the Penguin finally comes around.

When they murder Mr. Leonard together, Ed’s heart feels tight and almost painful. For once in his life, he’s getting what he wants. The Penguin is _teaching_ him, voice strangely patient and eyes hungry yet respectful; the look one bloody-mouthed lion gives to another; an understanding between two predators.

This is who he really is. And the Penguin has helped him achieve it. Gratitude fills his veins; gratitude and something else which burns in his heart. Something he doesn’t recognize. Something he’s never felt before.

~

He wants a friend.

He’s grateful to Oswald for releasing him from Arkham; so grateful, he’s not sure what to do with himself. Surely Oswald _recognizes his use_ , now; he knows that Edward can be very helpful indeed.

So he sets himself to the task of getting Oswald elected, and fairly, at that. When his deception is revealed by Butch and Oswald turns on him with angry betrayal in his eyes, Edward’s heart is thrumming fast in his chest: this is his _chance_ to prove that he’s worthy of more than a lackey position. To prove that he’s worthy of Oswald’s trust and maybe (part of him whispers, desperate and doubtful and longing) even his _friendship_.

And Oswald remembers his riddle; there are tears shining in his eyes as Edward traces a heart in the air; and Edward has never had _anyone_ look at him like that, _ever_ ; and Edward wonders: is this what reciprocal friendship feels like? Has he finally achieved what he went so long without? What he’d _yearned_ for for so long?

When Oswald names him chief of staff, his heart feels overfull, bursting with delight and affection. Oswald _appreciates_ him. Oswald cares for him, at his own expense.

There’s no one like Oswald. His first best friend.

Every day working for him is a joy; Oswald overlooks his faults and praises his achievements. Oswald continues to surprise and amaze Edward, day after day, with his pointed, viper-like manipulations and his powerful control over his lackeys. His pale, observant eyes sometimes pierce Edward with their glacial stare; and then, they’ll soften, his affection and - dare he call it? - adoration for Edward warming his gaze.

Sometimes Oswald makes him uneasy. He’ll look at Edward with worried eyes, mouth parted as if in preparation for speech. He’s trying to tell Edward something, and the doubtful part of Edward whispers to him: _he wants to get rid of you. He wants to punish you._

But Oswald never says it. Whatever it is.

~

He wants revenge.

Oswald’s betrayal has cut him deep -- somewhere he didn’t know he could hurt, buried deep in his heart and burning there, like a poison-tipped knife.

He’s been lied to. Manipulated. Treated like one of Oswald’s enemies.

Oswald, his first best friend.

And then he has the gall -- the filthy, lying mouth -- he tells Edward that he _loves_ him, which is so ridiculous it’s practically a _joke_ except Edward _isn’t fucking laughing_.

 _Love wouldn’t hurt like this_ , Edward wants to howl at him, except, of course, it _does_ , doesn’t it?

Because Edward doesn’t -- can’t -- won’t love. Because every time he has, it’s always--

_\--a slap to the face--_

\--ended in heartache.

And then it is a fucking joke.

Because it’s true. Oswald _does_ love him. Oswald is willing to sacrifice himself. He laughs in that odd way, tears in his eyes, and defiantly insists he will not give Edward up.

Edward watches the expression on his face transform as Edward reveals the deception. He’s not sure if he’s vindictively glad or -- or _something else_ , but his stomach burns as he watches Oswald’s face fall, the desperation in his gaze as he asks if he passed (if his love is enough to spare him from the culmination of Edward’s revenge).

It isn’t. Because Edward knows what he wants. And what he wants is _revenge_.

Oswald tries to speak to him, tries to reason with him; but Edward can no longer trust his own eyes or his heart: he can’t recognize when the Penguin is telling the truth or lying.

And maybe he never could.

~

He wants closure.

It’s done with, now, and _he_ should be done with it. Yet for some reason, he isn’t.

Sometimes he remembers the dead-eyed way Oswald had looked at him when he was rehabilitating the injured Penguin; the way he fell into a strangely apathetic depression, uninterested in all his old hobbies and habits.

Edward avoids looking in the mirror, lest he recognize that look in his _own_ eyes.

It’s not _fair_ that he should be tormented this way. The deed is done, the scales balanced. Oswald killed her, so he killed Oswald. Fair and square. There’s no reason for it to keep itching away at him, persistent and unending.

He gives in to the drugs, to keep him awake and focused; he certainly doesn’t choose this variety of stimulant because of one of the listed side effects (hallucinations). Yet when Oswald appears to him, dripping wet and covered in algae, he finally admits to himself that he needs him. Just for a little bit longer. Just until he finds a new mentor to guide him on his path.

Of course; it’s a little more complicated than that, as the hallucination reminds him. It knows everything he knows; it knows what he _needs_ from Oswald.

And what he needs is _closure_ , a way to shut the door on that part of his life and move on.

_(The part of his life when he’d finally felt friendship; when he’d devoted himself to a cause that wasn’t his own and received praise for it, praise and acknowledgement and care and the soft warm feeling of Oswald’s hand on his knee, reassuring Edward of his presence and his support, but it had been a lie, and yet not a lie because if there’s one thing he knows is true it’s that Oswald_

_loved_

_him.)_

The hallucination preys on those confused feelings of vulnerability in the worst of ways. And yet Edward keeps calling him forth because--

Well, because he _misses_ him.

And then he finally does it. He finally becomes him: the man he is meant to be.

And upon that pinnacle of his achievement, he looks into himself and decides that it is time to face Oswald once and for all.

He says goodbye again, out there on the docks. Or. Perhaps it’s only the first goodbye; he’d hardly said anything to Oswald the first time they’d been there. Oswald had done most of the talking, until he couldn’t anymore, staring at Edward with wide horrified eyes, hands clutching at the gaping wound in his gut, blood red and vivid against his pale skin.

And he’d fallen into the water with such a quiet little splash.

Not a fitting end for the Penguin. But an end nonetheless.

~

He wants an ending.

He’d thought this part of his life was over but now that Oswald is _back_ , is mysteriously, _miraculously_ alive, he needs his former mentor to look at him with wide shocked eyes and _admit_ that Edward has _transcended_ by becoming the Riddler.

He’s not sure why he needs it.

Well -- there’s always been a part of him that cares, deeply, for what the Penguin thinks of him, even before they’d made their acquaintance. As soon as he’d seen the Penguin at the station, announcing that he still lived (it seems to be a _habit_ of his) he’d developed a rather unseemly fixation on the other man. And then, of course, he’d become the Riddler by killing Oswald. So now that Oswald is alive… he needs Oswald to admit it, to acknowledge it, to call the Riddler by his rightfully chosen name so that he can _finally_ truly put an end to all things Oswald Cobblepot.

He can admit that that doesn’t exactly _incentivize_ Oswald to call him by his new name.

(Oswald will _die_ , one way or another, and he knows better than to think that the Riddler will spare him for something so simple as calling him by the right name.)

And yet Oswald still glares at him, eyes defiant and teeth bared. He’s willing to be _tortured_ over this, apparently, he is so determined to not give Edward what he needs. What happened to the Penguin who was willing to scrape and bow and beg and plead, eyes glistening with tears and heart bared and vulnerable?

He should have predicted this.

Why should Oswald be willing to give him what he needs, now that they’re enemies?

Somehow, he’s gotten so _used_ to the idea of Oswald fulfilling his needs, that this turn of events almost shocks him.

And they’re back at the docks, his gun aimed at Oswald. Oswald looks back at him, strangely serene, and declines to give any final words. Unease pricks at Edward (this isn’t the ending he wanted -- it feels strangely lackluster and anticlimactic this time with Oswald staring at him with those cold pale eyes) but he will _not_ let Oswald steal away the satisfaction he _deserves_.

The gun clicks when he pulls the trigger, chamber empty.

~

He wants…

Oswald is standing so close to him, eyes intent and dispassionate, and Edward watches his reflective gaze as he explains -- explains that Edward was _wrong_ , that he doesn’t know Oswald at all. Not like Oswald knows him.

And Edward wants…

It feels like Oswald is towering over him, tranquil in his triumph. This glacial gaze has never been directed at Edward. Oswald has always forgiven him his trespasses, every step of the way.

But Edward doesn’t want his _forgiveness_. (He won’t get it, anyway.)

Edward wants…

Oswald has manipulated him. Since the moment he awoke, Oswald has directed and predicted his every action. When he attempted to exploit Oswald’s love for him, when he attempted to trigger a volatile emotional reaction based on the premise that Oswald was still broken hearted over his unrequited love...

Oswald had _faked_ it.

Playing into Edward’s expectations.

“--to never make that mistake again.”

His heart leaps out of his chest after Oswald, a desperate _need_ burning in his chest, and as Strange’s monster lifts his gun he reaches out after Oswald, protest flying from his lips--

It rushes over him, icy fingers of dread feeling burning hot against the cold of the freeze ray, the sudden understanding striking him harder than Oswald’s searing gaze.

Edward wants _him_.

As the world glazes over in ice, the last thing he sees is Oswald’s grim smile, burning away at Edward’s heart.


End file.
